


Chocolate

by latin_cat



Category: Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: Chocolate, Fluff, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latin_cat/pseuds/latin_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wellington has a sweet tooth and doesn't like to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate

“What have you got there?”

“Where?”

“There! Are you eating something?”

“No.”

“Yes you are; from that little box in the drawer that you think I can’t see.”

Wellington cursed silently. He had thought he’d done a fairly good job of keeping the box hidden, but the captain must have seen his hand wandering into the drawer and out again. Sharpe by name, sharp by nature it would seem; and damned inconveniently sharp at times.

“And what if I am?” he asked, licking the residual brown powder off his fingers with an abstracted air.

“I thought you might share.”

“Did you? Well, I am afraid in that assumption you are mistaken.” He twisted in his chair to see a pair of bright green eyes peering at him speculatively from over the footboard of the bed.

“Oh aye?” Sharpe asked, raising his eyebrows. “Too good for the likes of me, is it?”

“Quite.”

“You let me have some of that sherry you found in Oporto, though,” said the rifleman, in what could almost be considered a whinge.

“Sherry is one thing,” said Wellington, turning back to his correspondence. “These are another.”

“So what are they, then?” Sharpe demanded, slipping off the bed and padding across the room in stockinged feet to take a closer look, but Wellington slid the drawer shut with a snap. Sharpe snorted.

“That’s nice,” he muttered darkly.

“I would prefer it if you were not to rummage through my drawers.”

“Why? I’ve done so before.”

“That is entirely different and you know it.”

“Aren’t you going to let me see?”

“No.”

“Well, I’ll have to find out some other way, won’t I?”

And before Wellington could even begin to contemplate the meaning of this statement, he suddenly found his lips captured in a kiss, his mouth opening to an invasive tongue, eliciting a small moan as he was caught off guard. After a few moments Sharpe broke away, leaning back and running his tongue around the inside of his mouth consideringly.

“Something sweet, whatever it was,” he said after a pause.

Wellington laughed, snagging a finger into the other man’s waistband and pulling him down into his lap, his arms snaking around his lover’s middle.

“And that is as much as you are going to taste.”

“You’re being priggish again, Arthur,” Sharpe said sullenly, a put-upon look in those jade eyes.

“I have every right to be,” said Wellington haughtily. “They are my sweets after all.”

“I get enough of that every day without you sneering at me when we’re alone,” said Sharpe, one hand wandering up to start unwinding Wellington’s neck cloth absently. “You know I hate it. And what harm can it do to let me see what they are? It’s not as if I’m asking for any…”

“Are you _wheedling_ , Richard?”

“Reckon I am. Aren’t you going to even let me take a look?”

Wellington gave a weary sigh, finally giving in and opening the drawer, bringing out a small cardboard box bedecked with silver ribbons. Lifting the lid, Sharpe could see that inside were several nondescript dark brown lumps, each about the size of a small pebble.

“What is it?”

“Plunder.”

Sharpe blinked.

“Generals plunder?”

“Oh certainly; only our plunder is obtained subtly and given the title of ‘spoils’ or even ‘gifts’ for form’s sake.”

Which, coincidently, was how he’d acquired these from a red-faced and somewhat out of place Lawford, having found the small ribboned box in what must have been a lady’s boudoir when the General’s staff had first moved into their current headquarters. Wellington had taken one look at the contents, given the colonel his most charming smile, saying; “Obliged to you, Lawford; greatly obliged.” – and then left the room before Lawford could realise what exactly it was he had lost. He did not feel the least hint of guilt; and besides, in his opinion truffles would be wasted on a man like Lawford.

“Have you ever come across chocolate, Richard?” Wellington continued, taking one of the lumps delicately between his thumb and forefinger. Sharpe frowned thoughtfully.

“I’ve heard of it. It’s a drink.”

“It most commonly is, but it can also be made into confectionary; indeed, I tend to prefer it in that form.” He sighed once more, rolling his eyes at the other man’s look of curiosity and relented, holding the truffle out to Sharpe. “Go on then. You might as well have a try, seeing as you shan’t stop pestering me until you do.”

Taking the offered sweet, a triumphant smile plastered across his face, Sharpe sniffed the truffle cautiously before putting it whole into his mouth. The smile instantly turned to a look of mild surprise at the unaccustomed sweetness and the rapidness with which the chocolate dissolved in his mouth. He gave it a couple of perfunctory chews, swallowed with a gulp, and automatically began licking his fingers to rid them of the residue cocoa powder before catching sight of the General frowning at him disapprovingly.

“What?”

“You’re not supposed to scoff it.”

Sharpe groaned. It seemed he could not do anything right today.

“How else am I supposed to eat it, then?” He asked irritably.

“Let it melt in your mouth; savour it a while.”

“Where I come from,” Sharpe said flatly. “Food ain’t usually worth savouring.”

“Yes, but you must admit there are some things in the world which are of a better standard than army issue beef!” said Wellington, somewhat exasperated. He knew he would never make a _connoisseur_ of the captain; but still, there were limits…!

Sharpe raised his eyebrows significantly.

“It weren’t the beef I were thinking of, Arthur.”

Wellington decided not to press the issue, preferring not to recall some of the nameless things he had been served by hard-pressed army cooks in the past, and instead returned to the subject in hand.

“So,” he said grudgingly. Sharpe was still sucking his fingers clean. “I take it with the indecent speed you devoured it that you find chocolate to your taste?”

“Aye,” said Sharpe, smiling. “It’s nice.”

Wellington arched a mocking eyebrow.

“Only ‘nice’?”

“Can’t be sure,” Sharpe mused vaguely, playfully brushing a finger over Wellington’s lips. “Them things being so small; I’d have to have another to be sure.”

The General snorted, swatting away the errant hand that was wandering towards the cardboard box.

“One, Richard – the conditions were that you could have ‘one’.”

“But you want me to be certain whether I like them or not, don’t you?” said Sharpe, peering wide-eyed from under his fringe, an expression of hurt innocence on his face; a look which he knew Wellington found particularly appealing. Wellington gave him an annoyed glare, knowing full well that Sharpe was doing his best to wheedle more chocolate out of him; which irritated him all the more, as he could feel himself weakening before that pleading gaze. _Damn it..._ It was no use – but bloody well damn it if he wasn’t going to give in without a fight! He fished another chocolate out of the box, shooting Sharpe a sly glance.

“Well, if you want any more you will just have to get it for yourself.”

With that he placed the truffle between his teeth and Sharpe, catching his lover’s mood, grinned and bent his head down to try and snatch it away, only for Wellington to slip it back into his mouth with the tip of his tongue, grinning smugly. Cheated, Sharpe narrowed his eyes.

“Like that is it, then?”

He took hold of the nape of Wellington’s neck roughly, pulling him into a fierce kiss in which their tongues duelled for supremacy; sliding about each other, entwining and circling, the melting chocolate passing back and forth between them until there was nothing left but the bitter-sweet aftertaste. Having succeeded in exacting this small revenge, Sharpe leaned back, licking his lips and grinning.

“I reckon they taste better like that, don’t you?”

“For once, my dear, I do believe you could be right.” Wellington smirked at Sharpe’s indignant expression, reaching up to brush a stray lock of dirty-gold hair behind the rifleman’s ear. “There is also a rather interesting piece of trivia concerning chocolate, in that some schools of thought consider it to be an aphrodisiac.”

“And what’s one of them when it’s at home?” Sharpe mumbled. He expected the General to chide him for not knowing what was probably quite a common word in educated society; but to his surprise Wellington simply smiled at him sweetly – sweeter than chocolate – as one hand reached up to gently undo the laces of his shirt whilst the other ran appreciatively along his green-clad thigh.

“Should you like me to give you a demonstration, Richard?”

And much later, as he lay on his back staring at the ceiling, Wellington’s head pillowed against his chest and licking the remains of the last truffle from his fingers, Sharpe finally came to the conclusion that he did like chocolate after all. Shame it had only been such a small box…


End file.
